It’s Friday and it’s sometime between 4:00 p.m. and 8:00 p.m. During this four hour period, most people have a renewed outlook on life. A new lease. Thoughts of any responsibility are tossed by the wayside, replaced with delusions of grandeur as you grab dinner at some middle-of-the-road establishment with a small group of friends. Everyone is there for the same reason. They want to parlay that fifteen or twenty dollar meal into a night out chasing the elusive dragon that’s at the forefront of everybody’s mind.
I’m speaking, of course, about ass. It could be the girl who’s always showing up to the group pregames with a bottle of pinot grigio alone. Maybe it’s one of your on-again-off-again flings. Perhaps you’re just rolling the dice and trying to get lucky at a bar. Who the girl is doesn’t really matter. I’ve said it a million times but I’ll say it again – most of the time, the pursuit of a girl is more fun than the actual act of hooking up is. Everyone is just out there looking for the same thing: a warm body to lay next to and feel up until around 9 or 10:00 a.m. the next day.
But as the sun goes down and that dinner ends, plans to go back to somebody’s apartment to drink for a few hours are put into place. Everyone has money, but six hours at the bar is lunacy. Groupthink is starting to happen, and that buzz from your restaurant sake has gone from euphoric to subdued. This is right around 8:00 p.m., and it’s where the night can get away from you if you aren’t careful. Derailment is easy and you need to tread carefully. Without the use of an illicit drug such as Concerta, Adderall, Ritalin, or cocaine if you can afford it, your night could very well end before it even begins. And there is no one to blame but yourself. This three-hour window – from 8:00 p.m. to 11:00 p.m. – is the most dangerous three hours of anybody’s Friday night. It threatens everything you’ve worked the entire week for. Yawning begins, and like the bubonic plague, it spreads from one person to another with no regard for anybody’s plans. All of these phrases will get tossed around at a Friday night pregame if the mood isn’t correctly set.
Man, I might have to call it a night. Work was brutal this week.
Where is the bar we’re going to again? Allison just texted me and said there’s already a huge line.
Fuck it, I’m out. I’ve got some HBO and maybe a little porn to watch.
At this point, you’re more than likely asking yourself, “Fine, what can I do to keep my pre-game from turning into a fucking wake?”
It’s pretty simple, actually. Follow these two rules and I can promise you that you’ll make it to a bar tonight. They’re easy, painless, and while I can’t guarantee you’ll get laid, at the very least you’ll be able to say you weren’t in bed at 10:45 p.m.
Unless you’re shotgunning them, keep the Miller Lites far away from anyone trying to hit the bars. As a matter of fact, hide the light beers in a pantry if you’re hosting the pregame. I don’t know about you, but Miller Lite can sometimes have the same effect that red wine has on my stomach/psyche – fatigue. Cracking a coldie is all well and good, but if you’re not in a very specific headspace you’re going to end up nursing that beer for thirty minutes and lose all of your moxy. Once that first yawn leaves someone’s mouth you might as well turn the playlist labeled “Friday” off and toss on the “Jazz For Sleep” playlist. It’s shots and mixed drinks only until you and the crew get to a bar. Upon arrival, Miller Lite or your preferred domestic is back on the table as an acceptable drink. Until then, stay on the liquor train.
You might be the designated DJ in your crew. Maybe you stay out of the way when it comes to music and let someone else take care of it. Or perhaps you’re the worst person in every group of friends – the guy who keeps telling the guy playing music that he should switch it to the song he wants to hear. The song requester gets on everyones nerves, so tell this guy early on in the night to just shut the fuck up and let someone else handle it. You need an eclectic mix of oldies, newbies, and in-betweens. Earth, Wind, And Fire’s “September” always gets people on their feet, as does “Run Around Sue” by Dion. I know you want to listen to the extended version of “Return Of The Mack”, but please, for the love of God, do not bust that nut during the middle of the party. “Return Of The Mack” is a song you need to save for last. It’s the one you play while everyone takes their last shot of Tito’s and jackets get put on. You need some Rihanna. You need “24K Magic”, the heater that Bruno Mars just released today. Keep it light, keep the generations changing, and do not, under any circumstances play any Arcade Fire. Nothing brings the mood down like those pseudo-intellectuals. And look, I’m not saying you HAVE to play this, but it certainly won’t hurt the collective mood if you decide to throw it on.
Stick to liquor and don’t play any Arcade Fire at your pregame tonight. You should be able to get to the bar without any hiccups. Happy hunting. .